


Talk Dirty to Me

by Gabriel_Is_My_Guardian_Angel89



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Fade to Black, No Plot/Plotless, Sam's hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28719393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel_Is_My_Guardian_Angel89/pseuds/Gabriel_Is_My_Guardian_Angel89
Summary: injured on a hunt, it’s up to Sam to distract you the best way you know how while he patches you up.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/You
Kudos: 23





	Talk Dirty to Me

“Distract me, Sam.” 

“What”, Sam asked as he approached with the first aid kit and a bottle of Jack. 

“Keep me distracted. This one’s gonna hurt like a bitch, so, I dunno, help me keep my mind off it?”

Sam breathed a sigh and dug out the needle and thread, handing you the whiskey before sitting on the bed next to you. You unscrewed the cap, took a big swig, and handed it back to him before scooting back to lay against the pillows. The gash you sustained during the hunt was not a pretty one, a cut of about seven inches across your stomach that had narrowly missed being deep enough to do any actual damage to the organ. 

You settled back and carefully pulled your shirt up for Sam to be able to get to work, the fabric bunched just under the curves of your breasts. Of course, you could have just taken the destroyed tee off, not like he hadn’t seen you in your bra before anyway, but it just seemed more appropriate, made it less likely for awkward feelings to stir up. You removed the strip of cloth you’d hastily taped over the wound as a makeshift bandage as Sam maneuvered himself around on the mattress so that he could pour a little of the whiskey over the wound, the sting of the alcohol pulling a hiss from your lips. 

“Sorry”, he lamented as he reached across you and set the bottle on the bedside table. He sat back and looked at you, his face tight with worry.

“‘S okay, just please, keep me preoccupied.”

“Uh, how?”

“I don’t know, make me laugh? Like...okay, like cheesy dirty talk or something. Take my mind off that friggin’ needle you’re gonna be stabbing into my stomach repeatedly.”

Sam spluttered, his fingers fumbling with the thread, his neck flushing red. You bit back a laugh at his nervousness, surprised to find him flustered so easily. It was actually kind of adorable, the way his nose crinkled, his eyes flicking away from yours. 

“Hah-what?! Y/n, I can’t-”

“Sure you can, Sam, Dean does it all the time.” You rolled your eyes at the look that earned you. “Oh, it’s not like that, Sammy, he doesn’t mean anything by it. He just does it all silly-like to get my mind off whatever’s bothering me or whatnot. It helps. So, please?”

Sam grimaced and heaved a sigh of defeat and returned to threading the needle. Once that was accomplished, he looked up at you briefly, his eyebrows set in determination. The change in his demeanor as he leaned closer to you, the barely perceptible darkening of his eyes, made your breath hitch in your throat.

“So, Dean talks dirty to you, does he?”

“I mean, kinda. Like I said, he does it to make me laugh and relax. Sam, if this is too weird for you-”

“Does he tell you all kinds of naughty things? Things he does, things he’d like to do?” His voice was oddly rough, and you looked down at him with confusion he couldn’t see as he kept his head down to focus on your wound. His empty hand slid slowly across your stomach, fingers carefully pinching the skin closed as he brought the needle up, preparing to begin stitching as he continued. “He ever tell you how good you smell? The way that strawberry shampoo of yours wafts off you, clouds his mind, until it’s all he can do not to just scoop you up and take you back to his room? Close his door, toss you onto his bed and just muss that pretty hair all up so that by the time you leave it, his pillows will remind him of you for days.”

Okay, guess he wasn’t quite the type to do the silly type of dirty talk. Give Sam a challenge, he went all out, that’s for sure. You were definitely distracted now, enough so that by the time Sam pierced the needle through your skin, you barely managed a low hiss, too caught up in his words. 

“No. I don’t think that’s that way he distracts you, probably gets to the sex right from the get-go. How he’d love the way you feel wrapped around him, this strong-but-soft body just absolutely ruining him for anyone else. This distracting enough for you, y/n?”

“Uh-huh…” you gulped, your mouth drying as you fought to find your voice. He still wasn’t looking at you, concentrating instead on the stitching. 

“Good. Hate seeing you in pain, at least, pain you didn’t ask for. Fuck, I’d love, just once, to hear you squeal from the good kind of pain. The barely-there pain that comes from getting bit just the right way, from those perky little nipples being pinched. From a thick, hard cock stretching you open.”

“Sam…”

His hand stilled and you saw him take a deep breath, his jaw clenching before he looked up at you finally, eyes slightly wide with worry.

“Shit, did I go too far? Look, I’m sorry. I’m not good with the whole silly stuff. I-”

“No, Sam, no. Keep going. It’s working; a little too well, actually.”

You bit your bottom lip as Sam realized what you were admitting. His eyes darkened, his lips tugging into a smirk and he turned his head back to start stitching again.

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Who’d have thought. A little bit of talk about getting fucked nice and hard, and little y/n/n gets all hot ‘n bothered, huh? You might just regret asking me to distract you by the end of the night. You sure you want me to keep going?”

“Very. Please, Sam, tell me...what would you do to me, if you had me?”

“If I had you? Fuck, y/n, if I had you, you wouldn’t know what hit you. Take you apart, piece by piece. Taste every inch of this sweet, gorgeous body. God, you have no idea, do you? How stunning you really are? So strong, physically, mentally, emotionally...never met someone like you. And still so kind, under all that strength. So giving. I’d love to see you just take for once. Take what you need, what you really need.” 

“Oh,  _ Sam _ .”

You barely felt the pinch and tug of the needle as he finished the last few stitches and you fought the urge to squeeze your thighs together, knowing the action would be too telling. Sam shifted on the bed, grabbing the scissors and a clean bandage from the first aid kit. You noticed the slight tremor in his hands as he cut the thread and smoothed the bandage over your wound. His fingers lingered on your bare stomach, and you couldn’t help the way your muscles twitched under his palm as the tips of his long digits skimmed under your bunched up shirt, just barely brushing along the edge of your bra. 

You let out a soft sigh and the sound seemed to shake him out of his reverie, his hand pulling away from you to busy himself with putting away the supplies. He stood from the bed and tossed the kit in his duffle before turning back to face you, his face unreadable. You were caught by surprise when he quickly bent down and scooped you into his arms. 

“Sam, what?!”

He turned and gently set you down on the other bed, his cheeks slightly flushed as he settled you against the pillows, taking care of your wounded side as he straightened back up. You looked up at him in confusion, too caught up in the sudden weird to remember that your shirt was still bunched up under your breasts and dragging minutely higher with each shifting movement. 

“Uh, sorry. The…” Sam gestured over at the vacated bed, “the bedspread got wet from the whiskey. Didn’t think you should risk getting the bandage messed up. You take this bed, I’ll um, I’ll take the sofa.”

You were taken aback by the gesture, the arousal stoked by his words no less inflamed by the way he had slipped back into his usual self. As he turned away, you grabbed his arm, tugging him back to you as you sat up against the pillows, wincing only slightly as your stitches pulled. 

“Sam, you really think I’m strong?”

“Of course, y/n. I’ve seen you give Dean a run for his money during a sparring session, not just anyone can do that. And you research with the best of us, and take so much in stride when others would crumble. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

You nodded and gulped back the fear that beat in your chest, his affirmation bolstering you as you carried out your sudden decision. 

“Kiss me.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to think it’s something you need to do just because of the whole dirty talk thing…”

“You said I should take what I need for once, right? Well”, you tugged him off balance so that he had to brace himself up on either side of your head. His gaze flicked down to your lips and back up to meet your own, his eyes now more black than hazel as he waited for you to finish. “This is me, taking what I need. Now, kiss me, Sam. Then we see about mussing my hair up some, yeah?”


End file.
